Du Meine Seele, Du Mein Herz
by Eleanor Zara Sugarbaker
Summary: Albus DumbledoreMinerva McGonagall. Not your typical MMAD romance fic.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**16 June 1952**

"...earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

The warm wind whipped wildly around one Albus Dumbledore as he bowed his head in respect, glancing up slightly at the priest who made the sign of the cross over the open grave before him. Dozens of people dressed in their finest black mourning robes encircled the freshly dug grave; some cried softly, some only appeared to have unshed tears of lingering sorrow bedim their doleful eyes and yet there were those who looked lost in thoughtful concentration. Still, there was one person whose appearance fit none of these criteria. Her lips almost disappeared into the thin line that was firmly in place just above her raised chin, her face was pale and her eyes were dark and barely blinking. All in all, the expression on her face was void of any emotion and wholly unreadable, which worried Albus. An accomplished Legilimens, he couldn't even gather an inkling as to what was going through the mind of the woman standing across from him on the opposite side of the grave, next to the priest. The playful wind lightly tousled her robes, separating both sides of the black garment to reveal a burgeoning belly from which life would spring forth in just a few months time. The normally modest woman acquiesced to the exhibition of the gift she carried inside her, choosing to stand perfectly still and solemn over the grave of her recently departed husband.

"...The Lord bless him and keep him. The Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious to him. The Lord lift up his countenance upon him and give him peace..."

Briefly, Albus shifted his gaze from the widow to the rather large marble gravestone whereupon it was written:

_Carlo Prospero Giannini  
1923-1952  
Beloved Son and Brother_

No mention was made of the wife he left behind, or of the child he'd yet to see born. Albus felt a stab of pity for the young woman who he still looked upon as the student he'd taught a mere decade earlier. Once so young and vibrant with a promising career, only to be widowed and thrust into the position of a single mother. He took note that the lady stood alone next to the priest with no means of emotional or physical support to get her through this trying time. He observed her in-laws crowded together at the priest's other side, forming a familial support group that excluded the one member of the family who could've benefitted the most from it: the grieving widow. However, Albus knew that the woman's character was a testament to her strength and he also knew that she would pull through this hardship and every other obstacle in the future relatively unscathed because she was a person of sense, rationale and logic, which he saw as a weakness and a detriment.

"... With longing for the coming of God's kingdom, let us together pray as Jesus taught us..."

As the mourners were led in prayer, Albus let his focus once again fall on the woman across from him, the one who failed to recite the words and neglected to cross herself at its ending, unlike the others in the crowd. Instead, she chose to continue to stand unflinchingly silent. Albus didn't know if she was taking in the sounds of the burial ceremony or if she was lost in nostalgic thoughts that events like these were sure to conjure. He was unaware of the nature of the relationship she'd enjoyed with her husband, but the fact that she was bearing his child spoke volumes. Though, to tell the truth, he was concerned at the way the family had markedly removed themselves from their loved one's widow.

"...May your almighty God bless you in the name of the Father and of the Son and then of the Holy Spirit..."

Several "amens" were whispered solemnly and when the mourners began to disperse, Albus walked to the widow's side. He wasn't sure if she knew he was there, but he reached out and placed his hand softly on her small shoulder.

"Mrs. Giannini, I wanted to tell you once again how sorry I am for your loss. I remember your husband as a fine student and a humble, decent young man."

For the first time since they had all gathered at the cemetery for the burial, the widow broke her trance-like stare to respond almost monotonously, "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Your words are very kind and comforting. They are much appreciated."

Ignoring the coldness and distance in her voice, Albus proffered his arm and after a moment's hesitation, the lady hooked her arm with his. For several minutes, the pair quietly walked along in repose, contemplating the events of the day. The sky above them was cloudy and the birds' songs that rang from nearby trees were as dolorous as the mood that had befallen the group of people that had gathered to bury their beloved relative.

As they reached the church, Albus reluctantly untangled his arm from Mrs. Giannini's, but held her hands steadfastly in his own, blanketing them with the warmth they were severely lacking. Even in the warm June weather, her skin felt ice cold and chafed. Looking directly into her tired eyes, he saw nothing except the evidence of her exhaustion in the dark circles that formed immediately below them. A bit of the frigidity that had altogether engulfed her the past couple of days thawed in that moment as she unclenched her hands to allow Albus to reach her emotionally.

"My dear, I'm afraid that I have to go. I'm terribly sorry to be so abrupt, but final exams are this week and I have several students waiting for some private tutoring. I do so hate to rush away. If you need me to stay, I can make provisions for the students. It won't be a problem. I'm sure Armando..."

The young lady swiftly cut in, "No, Professor Dumbledore, don't change your schedule just on my account. I'll be fine. There are many things for me to do, a lot of loose ends to tie up and 'Thank You' cards to write. I'll be extremely busy. Thank you anyway–OW!" Suddenly, the widow grabbed her stomach, wincing in pain.

"My dear, what's wrong?? Does it have to do with the baby??" Albus asked worriedly. However, the mother-to-be laughed weakly.

"The wee one kicked me, that's all. Every now and then I'll be the recipient of a somewhat powerful blow that will knock the breath out of me for a couple of seconds." Upon seeing the skepticism in his expression, she added quickly, "I assure you, Professor, everything is fine. The wee one is just reminding me that no matter what happens, life goes on... that, and he's probably letting me know that he's hungry." Winking at her former professor, she raised herself once again upright, resting one hand on the swell of her belly. "I do want to thank you for everything that you've done for me–for the family–since Carlo died. It's meant a lot to know that we have a caring friend like you." She gave Albus a faint but sincere smile.

"As one of my most adept and capable students, I can't help but feel a certain fondness toward you. If you need anything, and I mean anything, my dear, don't hesitate to owl me. I don't care if it's day or night or in the middle of an exam, I'll promptly respond."

"I'll be fine. Please don't worry yourself over me."

Albus peered over his half-moon glasses. "Ahhh, alas that is something that I can't promise you. I will worry over you as long as I live."

The impact of his words hit Mrs. Giannini and their conversation was steered into an awkward lull. Looking down at her shoes and clasping her hands behind her back, she spoke softly to the ground, "And I will always worry over you."

Fearing that the events of the last few days would lead to revelations that would otherwise never have left the secret confines of their hearts, Albus cleared his throat and said gently, "I must be going. Remember if you need anything–"

"–Owl you. Yes, yes, I know," she answered with a grin. She moved toward him and he opened his arms as wide as they would go and welcomed her thin body against his, enveloping it with his familiarity. He never wanted to let her go. In fact, he wouldn't have released her at all if the growing babe in her belly hadn't chose that moment to deliver another hard kick to his mother, a kick that Albus felt against his own belly.

"The wee one must be quite a hungry little fellow. You better feed him before he causes you any more pain," he chuckled.

"Yes," she replied almost absentmindedly. "Take care of yourself, Albus."

"And yourself, as well as the baby."

Before Apparating away, he took one last look at the pregnant widow who was now all alone in the world and wished the baby she was carrying was his. He was whisked away only seconds before ten years worth of tears were unleashed by his most devoted former student.

**01 November 1956**

"Mrs. Giannini, I can't tell you what a pleasure it was to learn that you had applied for the Charms professorship!" boomed Armando Dippet jovially, as he scanned the application before him.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"It's certainly a great disappointment to lose Professor Wainwright. She is one of the best, but I'm all too eager to welcome you back in the fold, this time as an esteemed professor. All your former professors speak highly of you, especially my Deputy Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. And of course, it doesn't hurt that I counted you among my most distinguished students during your time here at Hogwarts. Tell me, Mrs. Giannini–"

"Actually," interrupted the applicant, "and I'm so sorry to interrupt, but since my husband died, I've reverted to using my maiden name."

"Oh, indeed!" guffawed the headmaster heartily. "And no need to apologize! Well, then, Ms. McGonagall, I've summoned you here for this interview to tell you that after my colleagues and I reviewed all the applications, yours stood out the most. With all the stellar recommendations and your extensive post-graduate work that included some research and field work in Charms, there was simply no other candidates that were as fully qualified. I'm pleased to offer you the position of Charms professor."

"And I am all too pleased to accept. I do so appreciate this opportunity."

"Now, then, usually when there's an incoming professor to take another professor's place, I like for the incumbent to sit in on a few classes and meet the students, especially if the incumbent will be taking over classes in the middle of term, such as yourself. I'd like for you to get a feel as to where the students are in regards to the material they're learning. I'd also like for you to get comfortable being in an academic atmosphere. I know you were a student here for seven years, but you are now being placed in a position of authority, you must exercise it cautiously, carefully and equally among the diverse group of students here. Knowing you, if won't be an enormous effort, but I'd like for you to start staying at the castle as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Professor Wainwright's chambers won't be vacant until she leaves in December and there aren't any other suitable rooms for your use just now. If it would be possible for you to stay in Hogsmeade perhaps and commute here during the week..."

"If I may speak, Armando?" came a benign, gentle voice to the Headmaster's right.

The headmaster arched his eye inquisitively, "Of course, Albus."

"There's no need for Ms. McGonagall to have to trudge back and forth from Hogsmeade everyday. After all, she has a small child in her care. In the meantime, I'm offering my chambers as a temporary solution to the accommodations problem."

"That's very generous of you, Professor Dumbledore," Ms. McGonagall, obviously touched at his suggestion, responded before Armando Dippet could get a word in edgewise, "But I won't hear of displacing you. I'll find suitable lodging in the village. Besides, it will only be for a month."

"But my dear, it's cold outside. The weather these past couple of weeks have been dreadful, what with the rain and snow and all..."

"We will be quite all right," Minerva said firmly, in a final sort of way.

"Well, well, then it's all settled. Ms. McGonagall, I'm ecstatic to welcome you among our respectable ranks. You will start your preliminary duties next Monday." Armando left the spot behind his desk to come around and shake his new Charms professor's hand. "Should you need anything, please just ask myself or Albus, or any of the other members of the staff."

"Thank you, Headmaster, I will keep that in mind. I'm definitely looking forward to working here." Getting up to leave the headmaster's office, Albus opened the door for Hogwarts's newest staff member and led her into the foyer where a small elf-like girl was waiting anxiously for her mother. Upon hearing the door open, she jumped up and ran to her mother as she walked through it.

"Mummy, mummy, did you get the job?!" She jumped up and down animatedly.

"Yes, darling, I got the job!" She picked her daughter up and hugged her tightly.

Albus observed the both of them and then realized that he'd never before met the little girl that was squealing with delight in her mother's arms. At least, not outside of the womb.

"Minerva, I don't think I've had the pleasure of being formally introduced to this remarkable young lady."

Placing her daughter back on the floor, she smiled at Albus and started to introduce the child, however the little girl piped up in excitement and instant recognition, "I know who you are!"

Before Albus could offer his hand, Eleanor stuck her small one out, waiting for the older man to take it. When he did, she shook it firmly and greeted him very matter-of-factly. "My name is Eleanor and I'm four. And your name is Albus Dumbledore. My mummy has told me all about you!"

Raising his eyebrows in amusement, he peered over at Minerva who was blushing a shade of the brightest scarlet.

Inwardly chuckling, he inquired further mainly to make Minerva a bit more nervous, rather than to satisfy any true curiosity of his own. "Really? And, er, just what has your mother told you about me?"

At that point, Minerva hastily interrupted her daughter to say emphatically, "Oh nothing, really. I was just telling her that you're a professor here and that you teach Transfiguration."

But the four year-old could not be quelled. Delighted to finally meet the object of the many wild bedtime stories told by her mother, she pushed on. "And she said that you were the absolute greatest wizard in the world!! Every night at bedtime she tells me a story and sometimes they're about you..."

"Eleanor...," Minerva attempted to break in subtly, but Albus's attention was held captive by the enchanting little sprite before him, and Eleanor was too engrossed in the stories of her mother's adventures to hear the benign scolding.

"She told me about the time you defeated the bad wizard Gri–, erm, Grinda–, Grinder–, oh whatever! And then she told me about the time you and she battled five bad wizards all by yourselves during the war!"

"Eleanor, really, that's enough..." The scarlet flush on Minerva's face was getting more pronounced by the second. The Transfiguration professor was loathe to admit that he was highly amused to see his former pupil squirm in her discomfort. It was becoming more obvious to him that even while married and living on the continent hundreds of kilometers away from Hogwarts, Minerva had never truly forgotten her professor or their times together. A glimmer of hope blossomed in his heart at the unintended revelations.

"And she told me that you were the one that helped her to become an animagus! I want to be an animagus, too, one day! Mummy said that I'll have to work very hard at it. Are you an animagus, too, Professor? Did you have to give Mummy private lessons?"

"Eleanor, that's enough! You'll talk Professor Dumbledore ragged, my darling!" A flustered Minerva laughed somewhat edgily and moved to stand behind her daughter, resting her hands on either side of Eleanor's shoulders.

Albus noticed the uneasiness in his new colleague's voice and turned his twinkling eyes full of mirth toward her and asked cheekily, "Really, Minerva, the greatest wizard in the world?"

Averting her eyes to the side to avoid his delighted stare, she retorted, "Shut it, Albus, before I take it back."

Turning his attention back to the wild-eyed child in front of him, he responded to her queries. "To answer your question, my dear, yes, I am an animagus. It is a lot of hard work, but with patience and perseverance, anyone can succeed in becoming one. Your mother was especially gifted with perseverance, but I'm afraid patience sorely eluded her."

The meaning of 'eluded' escaped the four year-old and so she'd tried to ask one of the two grown-ups in the room what it meant, however her inquisition was forgotten in the midst of the adults' exchange.

Rising to the bait Albus had purposely thrown her, Minerva interjected, "Excuse me, but who ran off and left me just before he was to battle Grindelwald because I was a mere two minutes late?"

"Did you really have to throw a rock at my head because I'd gone on without you?"

Huffing, Minerva cried indignantly, her Scottish brogue thickly coating the words that flew from her mouth, "For the hundredth time, I did not throw a rock at your head... Purposely, that is. It was a malfunction of my wand due to the extreme agitation resulting from having my life flash before my eyes!"

"That was a trying time, wasn't it?" remembered Albus as he stroked his beard whilst in deep thought.

"It was indeed," she finished with a genuine smile.

"Will you tell me about it sometime, Mummy??" Eleanor begged.

Chortling, Minerva replied, "I've told you that story a thousand times!"

"But you didn't tell me about throwing a rock at Professor Dumbledore's head!"

Bending down to lay a kiss on her daughter's mane of chocolate brown hair, "That's because it didn't happen. Not like that, at least."

Just then, Armando appeared from his office to call Minerva back in to sign some documents pertaining to her employment, apologizing for his forgetfulness. Albus volunteered to watch Eleanor, making Minerva rather nervous, but he reassured her that he would wait until she returned to speak of other embarrassing moments that he was lucky to have witnessed. Flashing him an irritated look, she disappeared into Armando Dippet's office and shut the door behind her.

Albus was utterly fascinated by Minerva's small child. As she talked, he noticed that she reflected many of the mannerisms of her mother, such as the way she raised her eyebrows when making an important point or tilting her head to the side when she didn't understand something, but most of all, she inherited her mother's precociousness. Eleanor was very much her mother's child, but with traces of her departed father, as well. Her hair and eyes were of the darkest brown color that Carlo Giannini's has been and she shared with him the same olive-colored skin. The shape of her eyes, however, and that of her nose and her mouth were purely her mother's.

"What kind of sweets do you like, Professor?"

"First of all, I invite you to call me by my first name. 'Albus' will do marvelously. Secondly, I must admit a certain partiality to sherbet lemons, but once in a while I dabble in other things like Chocoballs and Licorice Wands."

Eleanor's face lit up. "I love sherbet lemons! Mummy gets some for me every time we go to Diagon Alley!"

"I must say that you have impeccable taste! Let's share a scrumptious treat as we await your mother's return. We'll have to talk your mother into going into Hogsmeade and stopping at Honeydukes sometime in the near future. I know the shopkeeper who will be only too happy to fill your pockets to their brims with sweets." From the inner pocket of his bright purple robes, he presented his little charge with a sweet and to her joy, she rapidly popped it into her mouth. He proceeded to suck on one, as well.

"Mummy doesn't like sweets much," Eleanor remarked.

"I would say not. She never liked them very much; however, she did have quite a mild fondness for Honeydukes toffee at one time," Albus responded thoughtfully.

"Really?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. "I don't think I've ever seen her eat any sweets at all."

Sporting a downcast look on his face, he said somberly, "She stopped eating them after the war was over."

"Why?"

_Quite the inquisitive lass_, Albus said to himself. He was positively sure that Minerva wouldn't appreciate that particular story being told, especially to her four year-old daughter. Besides, he was certain that a child her age hadn't the ability understand it. After all, her own mother had been incapable of comprehending the complicated reasoning behind his actions at the time.

"Ahhh, I'm sorry, my dear, but that's a story for another time and place."

Taking the hint that it was a story for grown-ups only, she politely dodged the subject and innocently continued to interrogate the professor along another line of thinking. "What was my mummy like back then?"

The easy, simple question confounded the so-called greatest wizard alive. How could he tell this child that her mother was one of the most brilliant, stubborn, hardworking, admirable, studious, bewitching, charming, exasperating, beautiful women he'd ever had the pleasuring of meeting?? Brevity was not something one could use to describe all the qualities of Minerva McGonagall. She was an infinite conundrum that never ceased to amaze Albus. Her acid wit in the face of aversion, her ingenuity in a time of crisis, her solace in a time of pain... How could he translate feelings as deep-seated as the ones he felt for Minerva into something a small child could understand??

"Your mother was..." Albus searched his heart for the right words, but he was dumbfounded. The right words evaded his tongue and he was left staring helplessly into the expectant face of the young girl. Trying again, he persisted, "Well, she was..."

Albus was saved at that moment as Minerva emerged for a second time from the Headmaster's office.

"All done!" she announced cheerfully. Upon seeing her daughter and the Deputy Headmaster donning serious expressions, she inquired in puzzlement, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Albus answered placidly. "Eleanor and I were just taking a trip down Memory Lane."

"Oh? And just what were you two discussing _exactly_?"

Tranquilly, he smiled. "Not a word was uttered that would betray the memories kept only between us."

"What does that mean, Albus?" Eleanor inquired with childish interest.

"Eleanor! Please mind your manners! It's rude to call your elders by their first names!" Minerva was shocked at the lack of respect shown by her daughter, and attempted to apologize to the Transfigurations professor and Deputy Headmaster when he held up a hand to stop her.

"I told her that she could call me Albus since there will come a time still several years away when she will have to refer to me as 'Professor Dumbledore'.

"Now, ladies, I do believe a celebration is in order. Minerva, I've talked it over with Eleanor and we've decided to invite you to come with us to Hogsmeade and partake in the finest that Honeydukes has to offer." Linking his arm with his fellow professor and taking the hand of her all too eager daughter, he led them toward the door.

"Albus, if we're celebrating, don't you think I should get to pick the place we go?"

"If you were the object of the celebration, I would be inclined to answer in the affirmative, but I thought we'd celebrate this lovely young lady that you've managed to raise so wonderfully."

"Well, in that case," Minerva grinned at both of them, "I will wholeheartedly agree to an afternoon outing to Hogsmeade's most notorious shop, dedicated to rotting students' teeth since I was a student here."

"Come on, let's hurry up!" Eleanor exclaimed impatiently, tugging on Albus's hand. "I'm out of jelly slugs and I want more ice mice!"

"Minerva, she is most definitely your daughter. You clearly seem to have passed on your penchant for impatience."

Laughing, she teased, "I find that quite comical, Albus. Considering her love of sweets, I would be more willing to think she was _your_ daughter!"

Minerva didn't know at that precise moment how much that seemingly harmless statement gravely bruised Albus's sensibilities, for there was a time that he'd wished with all his heart that Minerva's baby had been fathered by him. He was absolutely mesmerized by the little person Minerva had brought forth into the world and he anticipated teaching her all about her mother's favorite subject when she embarked on her academic career at Hogwarts. He couldn't express how overjoyed he was when the Headmaster informed him that Minerva McGonagall had applied for a teaching position at her alma mater. It didn't matter to him whether they picked up where they left off or not, just seeing her every day and being near her after spending the last ten years with an incredible amount of distance between them was enough to sate his longing heart.

"Mummy, when we get to Honeydukes, are you going to buy some toffee?"

Bristling at the mention of toffee, she flashed Albus a look that said, "What did you tell her?"

Though she communicated using only her facial expressions, Albus knew exactly what she was trying to convey, and thus he responded serenely, "I only told the child that there was a time ages ago that you enjoyed the taste of certain sweets."

"So, are you, Mummy?"

Not breaking eye contact with the older gentleman on her arm, Minerva answered her daughter, who didn't catch the mist that clouded her mother's eyes as she responded, "Yes, but only if Professor Dumbledore shares a piece with me."


	2. Chapter 1

**I would like to take this time to thank all my lovely reviewers out there who cared enough and were interested enough to read and review my fic. I'm beyond delighted that you like it so much. THANK YOU so much and I hope you keep reading and that I continue to meet your expectations. :)**

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"I want those, Albus!" Eleanor shrieked in delectation, pointing at a specific pair of lilac-colored pyjamas in a wardrobe that was absolutely full of scintillating, garish nightclothes in seemingly every color in existence, including some that twinkled, some that sparkled and some that glowed.

As Eleanor ran off to the lavatory to change, Minerva crossed her arms and deadpanned, "Teaching my daughter bad habits, are you?"

Peering over his half-moon glasses, Albus replied innocently, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're teaching Eleanor to embrace your fashion _faux pas_."

"Well, I wouldn't use the phrase '_faux_ _pas_'," he sniffed, pretending to take offense.

"I'm willing to compromise and instead use the word 'mistake'," she flashed a wicked grin. "Are you in agreement?"

"Alas, I'm afraid we'll have to agree to disagree. You see, Minerva, my fashion taste may be _different_ from everyone else's, but I would venture to say that none of the contents of my wardrobe could be considered _hideous_ or_ wretched_."

"Oh," she said, raising her eyebrows, "do you still own that pair of pyjamas with the dancing flames on them? The same ones that sent me to the infirmary with a burnt hand when I tried to touch them?"

"Er, yes. I didn't think it reason enough to throw them away due to one mishap. They are quite flashy and charming if one doesn't touch the flames... Or sleep in them. They have a nasty tendency of setting the bed afire. I would hardly call them hideous or wretched, though," scoffed Albus.

"All right, how about _tacky_ and _dangerou_s?"

"Minerva, I do think we should leave your wandwork out of this..." Albus's eyes glittered with benevolent teasing. He sat and waited for her to rise to the bait, which she promptly did.

"My wandwork is top-notch, thank you!"

Continuing with his benign chiding, he responded, "Yes, how could I forget? Do you think the Wizarding World is ready to know that it wasn't I who defeated Grindelwald, but rather my assistant who did so because she misspoke the Summoning charm?"

For the second time that day, Minerva blushed furiously. "Albus Dumbledore, you are a curmudgeonly old man! No one would ever believe that blatant lie of a story, even if it did come from you!"

"It would make for an excellent, exciting bedtime story, don't you think?"

At that, Minerva couldn't help but laugh–a laugh which shook her whole body. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I'll negotiate. How much is it worth to you to keep the truth silent?" The Transfiguration professor brought his hands together to form a triangle with his index fingers.

"Everything, sir," she managed to calm down enough to answer in a mocking tone of voice; however, the overwhelming urge to giggle threatened to crumble her composure. "I don't think I could possibly live with the fame that has evidently haunted you and decimated your character these last eleven years. Name your price."

Stroking his beard, he paused a minute to pretend to mull over a price, but in all actuality, he just wanted to hear Minerva giggle again. And sure enough, she did.

"In exchange for my silence, all I ask is for you to accept the eccentric, outlandish fashion tastes of a curmudgeonly old man."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Done." Minerva thought she had control over herself, then slipped back into a fit of giggles. Albus admitted that he was pleased to see Minerva so at ease. Over the years, she had transformed into such a serious young woman that to see a smile grace her face or to hear her in uncontrollable fits of laughter had become too rare. From what he had observed, upon her marriage she'd become the dutiful wife and put aside the spontaneity and zealousness that accompanied her youth. The spirited, enthusiastic, yet determined pupil was the Minerva McGonagall he remembered, not the somber, austere wife of Carlo Giannini.

As the laughter between the two adults died down, Eleanor skipped back into the room wearing Albus's oversized lilac pyjamas with shiny silver winking moons on them. She had to hold up the ends of the bottoms to keep from walking on them, thus exposing her ankles and feet.

"I'm ready, Albus! Fix me up!" Standing with her arms outstretched and with her feet apart, she closed her eyes tightly and waited. Taking out his wand, Albus spoke the proper spell and instantly, the elongated bedclothes shrank until they were a perfect fit on Eleanor's body.

"What do you think?" Albus asked.

Eleanor opened her eyes and went to look at herself in the mirror. Ultimately pleased by what she saw, she gushed excitedly, "These are the best pyjamas ever! I want to wear these tomorrow night, too, and the night after that! And the night after that!"

"We'll see, darling," said Minerva.

"Don't you like them, Mummy?"

Upon seeing Eleanor's hopeful little face, Minerva bit back the dry retort she'd intended to fling at Albus and instead responded, "I think lilac is definitely your color." Upon seeing his satisfied smirk, she squinted her eyes in a non-verbal comeback.

"Now young lady, it has been a long day and I think it's time we turn in."

"Awww, but Mummy I'm not tired at all! I don't want to go to bed!" Eleanor stomped her foot and crossed her arms in stubborn insubordination.

Instantly, her tone became icy and the sternness of her character reemerged. Planting her hands on her hips, she looked down at her daughter and reproved, "It's past your bedtime as it is. Little girls need a good night's sleep if they don't want to sleep the day away. We have a lot to do tomorrow and I don't want you falling asleep on me when we go shopping in Diagon Alley."

Still pouting, Eleanor knew better than to test her mother's patience. Even at her young age she knew her mother was an unmoving, inflexible and strict parent. While Minerva indulged most of Eleanor's whims and fancies, she was unrelenting when it came to misbehavior and discipline. Though she rarely had to punish her daughter, the times when it was necessary, she did so with a firm, but loving hand. Disobedience simply wasn't tolerated.

"Can't I stay up just a little while longer?" Eleanor whined, albeit a tad cautiously as she attempt to push Minerva's limits. Minerva, however, could not be softened and she knew her daughter well enough that she put a stop to it immediately.

"Eleanor, this isn't up for discussion. You have one minute to tell Professor Dumbledore good-night and to get in bed."

"Fine. Good-night," grumbled the sulking little girl, her eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to meet either adult's face.

Bending down so that mother and daughter were at eye level with each other, Minerva tipped Eleanor's face upward with her finger. "I don't think that was a proper good-night. Professor Dumbledore was good enough to let us use his chambers until we get our own and he was even kind enough to lend you a pair of his pyjamas. Do you think that was the polite way to bid such a generous person good-night?"

"No."

"Why don't you show him what a nice girl you are and thank him for his generosity?"

In childish embarrassment for being scolded in front of one of her newest favorite people, a reluctant Eleanor nervously began chewing on her fingernails. Bashfully, she turned around and walked over to Albus.

"Thank you, Albus. I really do like the pyjamas and not because Mummy told me to say that."

"You're welcome, Eleanor. I hope you and your mother feel welcome during your stay in my rooms. I don't think they've seen this much company in years." Albus pointedly looked at Minerva, who shyly averted her gaze.

"Come on, Nell, let's go to bed. I'm exhausted," urged Minerva a little too quickly, which didn't go unnoticed by Albus.

"Good-night, Albus." Much to his delight, the girl ran to him and flung her small arms around his long, thin legs. At the risk of his heart exploding from the immense joy that had suddenly flooded his heart, he bent down and wrapped his arms around the lassie with the wild brown hair. The moment was marred only by Albus's regret that he couldn't do the same to the child's mother.

"Thank you once again, Albus," Minerva added softly and sincerely. "I'm so sorry to dispossess you. Where will you be sleeping?"

"Don't worry, Minerva, I'll make a bed in my office. I certainly don't feel as though I'm being dispossessed. It'll be refreshing to have these rooms full of noise once again... and exciting to have a four-year old running about." He winked at Eleanor.

She chuckled, "You say that now, but Albus, four-year olds are a lot of work. Not to mention rambunctious."

"Some people call _me_ rambunctious..."

"Oh dear, I'll lose my mind if I have to reckon with the both of you!" cried Minerva.

"I give you my solemn promise, my dear, that I won't give you a bit of trouble."

Eyeing him with skepticism, she responded, "Somehow, I doubt that. Speaking of trouble, I must comment on how incredibly coincidental it was that every single room at the Three Broomsticks was conveniently taken. Tell me, Albus, how much trouble did you have to go through to ensure there were no vacancies at the Three Broomsticks so that I'd have to stay at Hogwarts??"

Smoothly, he returned, not skipping a beat, "If you are implying that I had something to do with that, let me reassure you that I did not meddle in the business and operations of the Three Broomsticks just to get you to remain here at Hogwarts. I'm flattered that you think so highly of my influence, but I'm afraid that you ending up staying here was merely a twist of fate.

"Now, I think I'll retire to my office and let you two ladies get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"I doubt I'll get much rest sleeping next to those pyjamas," she quipped, looking down at Eleanor's pyjamas with the glittery moons on them. "I could probably see those with my eyes closed."

"Don't worry, Eleanor, your mother's just jealous that she doesn't have a pair exactly like them," Albus told Minerva's daughter who giggled at him. He caught Minerva's glare as he turned to go into his sitting room and pack up a few things to take with him to his office.

"Good-night, Albus," said Minerva with tenderness as she and Eleanor went into the bedroom and closed the door.

Moving to sit at the desk in his sitting room, he began going through all the drawers searching for things he'd need to take to his office while Minerva and Eleanor occupied his rooms. Gathering books, parchment and quills, he unexpectedly found a surprise when he reached the bottom most drawer. There, underneath some broken gadgets and old parchment, was a photograph that he'd long forgotten was there.

A wave of nostalgia sweeping over him, he sat back in his chair and combed his auburn beard with his fingers as he thoughtfully gazed at the framed picture. In it he saw a younger version of himself dancing with a carefree, beautiful young woman who had stolen his heart. He chuckled as he remembered how she hated to dance, but because he had wanted to spin her around on the dance floor, she had acquiesced to dance just one song with him. Then two, after he told her how radiant she looked in her new dark green dress robes that she'd bought solely to wear to the ball. Blushing, she accepted his hand and agreed to dance to just one more song. And so they did. And when the second song came to a close, he mentioned that her hair was lovely as all night he had watched the long, black curls, that trailed down her back, respond to every movement of their owner's body. Following that compliment, he hadn't needed to talk her into anymore dancing as they spent the rest of the night swirling and twirling about the room, talking and laughing, not noticing anyone else but one another.

As he beheld the swishing robes of the elegant, graceful young lady in the arms of his picture self, he ran a finger over the engraved label at the bottom of the photograph:

_Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall  
Yule Ball, 25 December 1945_

She'd been so young, but yet so mature for her age. Her intellect astounded him, her hard work amazed him and her beauty bewitched him. Minerva was one of the only people who could make him laugh until his sides were sore. He had been so certain that she was the one with whom he'd spend the rest of his life and she'd given him every indication that she thought of him in the same way. They'd been through much together. Firstly, he had been her professor and under his tutelage, she had blossomed into one of Hogwarts's star pupils. Then she had been his assistant, supporting him during the war against Grindelwald, even accompanying him to the final battle between the dark wizard and he. Afterwards, she had become his lover.

When the war was over and done with, he'd expected them to solidify their relationship with marriage vows, and though they'd become close to doing so, it never happened. Albus never fully understood why it their plans to wed never transpired, but with age brings wisdom and he couldn't fault Minerva for choosing a younger, more appealing groom. When she had informed him of her engagement to Carlo Giannini, he buried his sadness deep inside, refusing to let Minerva witness his disappointment because in truth, he was happy that she was happy; however, she hadn't been as ecstatic as he'd seen most brides-to-be act. Thinking it was just nervousness, he'd wished her a happy marriage and life with Carlo. By the time her wedding day had arrived, he had come to terms with the fact that Minerva was marrying another man. Whilst he couldn't be overjoyed that he'd lost Minerva to someone else, he conceded that she made an absolutely stunning bride. Though she wasn't to bear his children, nevertheless it had pleased him to hear the news that she was expecting a baby. He figured that if the child were to attend Hogwarts, at least he would have the privilege to teach it and guide it as it grew into just as capable a witch or wizard as its mother.

It only then occurred to Albus that he'd never stopped loving Minerva. Even during the loneliest, blackest of nights, his broken heart ached bitterly for the one person that he'd never have. Although time cured him of his longing, it didn't affect the love he had for her. That was the one thing with which he was left to endure the years he spent without her.

Now, she was a Hogwarts professor. The prospect of seeing her every day was bittersweet. He was elated at the idea of seeing her on a daily basis and perhaps talking with her over meals and taking nightly strolls on the grounds, but Albus was also painfully aware that things were probably not going to be as they were in the time before she'd become Mrs. Carlo Giannini. There were no more expectations of her returning the love he had held in his heart for more than a decade for her, and that was the saddest realization of all. At the moment, he honestly wasn't sure if Minerva's presence was going to be pleasurable or tormenting.

"Albus?"

Startled, he was suddenly torn from his thoughts to see Eleanor standing in his doorway.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed, little one?" he asked her in a serene voice, still thick with leftover emotion.

"I can't sleep. I asked Mummy to tell me a bedtime story but she fell asleep and now she's snoring. I can't sleep when she snores!"

_So, Minerva still snores_, Albus mused as he laughed gently. It was a sore topic with Minerva, as she staunchly maintained that she, in fact, did not snore. Albus was faced with much hostility from the prim and proper witch when he broached the subject with her. Sometimes he did so simply to watch her get angry. When she was flustered he thought she was at her best. Little curls would fall out of the tight plait she used to wear and spill over her forehead; if she was wearing her glasses, they would become skewed and fall slightly down her nose, which would be wrinkled in her fury.

"You'd better go back to bed. Your mother would be upset if she awoke and found you missing."

"Would you tell me a bedtime story, Albus? I'll go back to bed if you tell me one."

"Fair enough. Come here and sit on my lap." Eleanor smiled and clapped her hands joyfully and ran to Albus. He lay the photograph upside down on his desk and moved backward somewhat so that Eleanor could sit comfortably on his lap.

"Is there a particular story you'd like to hear?"

"Nope. You choose."

Just then, Albus realized he'd never before in his one hundred eleven years of life told a bedtime story. He wasn't quite sure what story to tell or where to start, so he started talking, hoping that it was interesting enough for the little girl. This task seemed more daunting for him than any of the complex alchemy projects he'd worked on with Nicolas Flamel.

"Once upon a time, there was a prince in a faraway land who was very lonely..."

"What was his name?" Eleanor cut in.

"I don't know," said Albus, wondering what that had to do with the story.

"He has to have a name," she declared adamantly.

"Why?" he asked, interested to know just why this prince had to have a name.

"Because everyone has a name, Albus!"

Meeting her demands, he pondered the query, "Oh, well, in that case, his name is... hmmm... his name is... Marcus. Anyway, so Marcus was very lonely. He lived in a big castle full of servants and interesting gadgets and rooms filled with wondrous things. Marcus even had a loyal pet that sometimes kept him company, but still he was sad because he felt lonely for a human companion."

"With all those servants, why did he feel like he was alone?" interrupted Eleanor, full of curiosity.

"Marcus was interested in things that the servants didn't care about. He liked to study and read about many things and in his spare time, he worked on inventing spells and charms to help out witches and wizards in their everyday lives. His work was very complicated and difficult for him, so it was nearly impossible for most people to comprehend. Some people even thought he was crazy for the odd gadgets and widgets he'd invented so far. He was always polite to those he met and he enjoyed talking to them, but still he was lonely.

"One day, a princess from another country came to the castle for a visit..."

"Why?"

Albus creased his forehead in bewilderment. This storytelling stuff was quite the arduous task! He didn't know how Minerva did it every night while managing to keep her daughter's attention long enough to tell the whole story. He wondered if Eleanor asked her mother as many questions as she'd asked him.

"She came to, er, see the prince."

"Why?"

"Erm..." Nervously, he wracked his brain for some feasible explanation as to why the princess would go see the prince. Recalling that Minerva had passed on to her daughter her penchant for impatience, he tried to speed up the thinking process.

"The princess went to see the prince, er, because... because she had an idea of how to make one of his spells better. So, they worked together on some spells and he listened to every word she said because she was very intelligent and she, too, was interested in inventing spells..."

"Wait!" bellowed the anxious little girl. "You forgot to give the princess a name!"

"Her name is... Agatha."

Eleanor crinkled her nose. "I don't like that name."

"Well, what name do you like?"

She tapped her cheek as she thought long and hard about what the princess's name should be, then all at once she stated frankly, "Her name should be Annabel."

"All right, Annabel it is. So, Marcus and Annabel worked side by side inventing spells, charms and instruments of magic. One day, Marcus realized that he wasn't lonely anymore. After working together for a while, Marcus and Annabel became good friends. They talked all the time about the things they were interested in and found they had a lot in common. As more time passed, Marcus discovered that he loved Annabel and wanted to marry her."

"Oooo!"

"At first, it seemed that Marcus and Annabel were going to be married and live happily ever after. Annabel decided that she should go home and tell her father, the king, that she was going to marry Marcus. Even though he was sorrowful that she was leaving the castle, he happily waited for her return. Days went by, then weeks, and finally, Annabel returned. Marcus knew there was something wrong, but he didn't know what it was. The princess told him that she couldn't marry him, after all, and that her father wanted her to marry someone else. When Princess Annabel left, Marcus became very gloomy because he still loved her with all his heart."

"That's sad!" Eleanor exclaimed, frowning.

"For a very long time, Marcus stayed in the castle and kept working on his projects. Years passed by, but Marcus never forgot Annabel and he never stopped loving her. No other princess could take her place, so Marcus remained alone.

"One day, he heard from one of the servants that Princess Annabel was staying in the village across the river. Though Marcus was excited by this news, he was cautious, as well. He had been sad for so many years that he didn't want to get his hopes up. The next day, he traveled to the village and he saw Annabel and she told him that her husband had died."

"Do Marcus and Annabel get married?" Her eyes were wide with wonderment, waiting to hear if the prince and princess were going to get back together.

"They talked and talked and upon discovering that the accommodations in his castle would be cozier than her present lodging situation, he invited her to stay in the castle. At first, she declined his invitation, but after telling her of some of the things he'd been working on since the last time they spoke, she accepted his offer and went to stay with him."

"So, did they get married??" she repeated her question.

"Er, I don't know."

"What do you mean 'you don't know'?! Marcus loves Annabel! They should get married!" The four-year old was appalled at the unexpected, displeasing turn of events. This was a story unlike any she'd ever heard before. The ones her mother told her always had a happy ending. She simply couldn't accept the fact that Marcus and Annabel hadn't gotten married by the end of the story.

"Yes, Marcus does love Annabel, but he's afraid to tell her."

"Why?"

"He doesn't want her to leave again."

"Why would she leave again? Doesn't she love Marcus?"

He understood then that he should've ended the story with them getting married and living happily ever after, as Eleanor was clearly a prolific question-asker and would prod until she received sufficient enough information to explain the whys and hows.

Placating her, he answered her question, "That's why Marcus doesn't want to tell her that he loves her because he doesn't know if she loves him."

Confusion showed on Eleanor's face as another question was asked of Albus. "Why doesn't he just tell her?"

_Good question_, he thought to himself. Eleanor was clearly as bright as her mother and had an discomforting knack of asking all the hard questions that would make one squirm uneasily in his seat. After all, why couldn't he tell Minerva that he loved her and try to pick up where they left off ten years prior?

"He doesn't tell her because he's scared."

"What's he got to be scared of?"

"He's scared that she no longer loves him."

"Ohhhh. Well, why would Annabel come back to him if she didn't love him?"

"Well, if you remember, Annabel didn't go back to the castle, she went to stay in the village near the castle."

"But she went back to the castle after he asked her to. She could've gone to another village."

Albus was speechless. Eleanor had made an excellent point. Minerva could've gone anywhere else, like the Leaky Cauldron, but no, she chose to stay at Hogwarts. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope of there being some feelings that had lingered throughout the years. She could've gotten a job anywhere, but she came to Hogwarts. Of course, it could naturally be one big coincidence.

"You know what Marcus should do?"

"What?" Albus asked, genuinely interested to know what the little girl had to say. It was then he wondered why adults didn't listen to children more often. They were outstanding observers, their ideas unclouded by bias and motive.

"He should ask her out on a date. Then he could find out if she still loved him or not.

"Well, Albus, I think I'm tired now. That wasn't too bad of a story. I have to say, though, Mummy's are better. Maybe if you figure out whether Marcus and Annabel get married or not, then the story would be much better." Kissing Albus on the cheek, she jumped off his lap and skipped out of his office. "Good night!" she told him as she went out the door.

Stunned, Albus sat motionlessly in his chair for several minutes, contemplating the ingenuous albeit accidental advice of a four-year old who had only wanted a simple bedtime story.


End file.
